The Law Of Attraction
by LeahxLeah
Summary: Harvey decides to teach Mike how to seduce a woman, and Mike tries to make Harvey fall for him. Slash, comedy.
1. Chapter 1

The Law Of Attraction

LeahxLeah

_For Tina_

Throughout Mike's life, he had found that the majority of the people he'd met underestimated him. From time to time, he could see why they might make that assumption—he had blue eyes so large and bright they could have made Bambi weep, blonde hair that stuck up like he'd just woken up from a nap, a sort of 'crumpled' look to his clothes, and he was sweet. He did good things, and liked to help people. Yes, he was adorable, and generally, adorable people didn't do anything wrong.

By principle, he tended not to, especially now that he was a lawyer and had no need to cheat for a living, or deal drugs. The world continued to think of him as a knight in shining armour, despite the fact he had only gotten his job through fraud and Harvey, whose morals related only to laws and not people. Jessica thought he was naïve, Rachel thought he was too kind, Louis thought he was an idiot, Donna also thought he was an idiot (in a cute sort of 'Mike' way), and Harvey? Harvey, despite knowing the truth about him, still thought of him as all of the above in a world full of cut throat people.

Typically, Mike was what they claimed him to be—except when he wanted something. Not like when he 'wanted' a sandwich or Harvey to let him go home early, but actually _wanted._ This type of want seared him from the inside out, turned him into someone a lot less like 'Mike' and more like a master chess player, willing to make any number of sacrifices to capture the queen. He became calculating and passionate all at once, and suddenly his towering I.Q. finally got a chance to be fully used. No one could outthink him, let alone see him coming—his 'adorable' attributes fixed that.

When Mike sought after something, nothing could stop him.

And as soon as he'd started working at Pearson Hardman, that thing had been Harvey.

He had been mortified when the thoughts first overtook him; he'd seen two guys making out in a back alley on his way back from buying groceries, and had laughed quietly at them. _Come on, have the hotel prices really gone up that much? That really can't be sanitary._

The man on the bottom looked up, his blue eyes flashing up to Mike's, and Mike froze. The other man could have been his twin, at least from that distance—his twin that was pressed up against a brick wall, a slightly taller man holding him to it. They were both wearing a similar pair of faded jeans, and a plain purple shirt; they both had high cheekbones. The taller man's focus couldn't seem to tear away from Mike's twin, and Mike heard his twin let out something like a moan when the taller man bore down on his neck.

_There's no way we're related—whether or not he looks like me, there is no way in hell I'd have sex in an alley._

The taller man kissed Mike's twin, and for a second he thought he spotted brown eyes and brown hair slicked back, and a white, long sleeved shirt. He tried to look again, but it had just been a trick of the light; his eyes tired after having worked for far too many hours in a row and hunger pangs sweeping over him. He blinked, rubbing his eyes before quickly walking away. What was he doing, watching them? He wasn't into men, after all, and even if he was he would have rather looked up porn online than watch it in an alley.

It was sick, and it was wrong, but for a second there, he thought he had seen him and Harvey.

The memory of that wormed it's way into Mike's mind, and suddenly it was in his dreams—Harvey's lips on his, hands everywhere, clothes falling away—and Mike thought he was going crazy. He tried to chase that insanity out, but no amount of sex or alcohol could change the fact that now when he looked at Harvey, he wanted those kisses in that alleyway.

But more than that, though—he wanted to be the one person Harvey looked at with that singularity, the one that could steal his whole universe with a smile.

He wanted Harvey to love him.

And Mike would, without a doubt, get what he wanted.

OoOoO

Harvey didn't figure anyone else would be at the office at one o'clock in the morning on a Saturday evening—hence the reason he'd come, to sit by himself, maybe put a record on, and possibly get some work done. Sleep was for the weak, after all, and he wasn't exactly being productive at home, watching Star Trek reruns.

The light coming from his office surprised him, and he subconsciously glanced around for anything that could be used as a weapon—a lamp, a plant, a painting, any one of Louis' possessions…

He was taken aback again when he saw someone had beaten him to his spot on the couch: Mike. Harvey instantly dropped his apprehension and flashed to anger, which switched to sympathy when he realised Mike had a glass of scotch in one hand and an icepack in the other, pressed to his face. The kid looked miserable—his suit was even more crumpled than usual, and his jacket draped over a chair. Mike tilted his head back, letting out something along the lines of a sigh, and Harvey raised an eyebrow.

"If I were you, I wouldn't switch from pot to scotch—neither is good for you, and my scotch is about twice as expensive," Harvey said, causing Mike to jerk out of his relaxed pose.

"What are you doing here?" Mike asked, alarmed.

"Answering the bat-signal. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh," Mike replied, staring down at his glass. "That's…kind of a long story, which I'm sure you aren't interested in hearing. So I'll just go, then. Sorry for the scotch!" Mike stood up, heading for the door before Harvey reached out, catching him by his elbow.

"Wait," he said, steering Mike back to his previous seat. "Sit back down and talk."

Mike looked up at him, his eyes wide and hopeful. "You better have a pretty damn good reason for breaking into my office and stealing my scotch," he finished.

"Well," Mike said, "I, uh, got dumped."

"By who?" Harvey asked.

"Jenny, my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend now, I guess."

"Jenny…why does that name sound familiar?"

"Oh, um, right. She used to be, ah, Trevor's girlfriend," Mike said timidly.

"Please tell me you're kidding me," Harvey replied.

"No."

"Keep going, kid, before I decide to give you another black eye."

"I always liked her, and after she and Trevor split up—"

"—and you thought it would be okay to date a drug dealer's sloppy seconds—"

"—she and I—well, you get it. But I also liked Rachel—"

"—a paralegal? Really?"

"—who turned me down before Jenny and I got together, and I ended up calling out the wrong name during sex—"

"—usually staying quiet is the best policy—"

"—and it turns out that drug dealer's ex-girlfriends tend to punch, not slap. Now I'm locked out of my own apartment, where everything but my key-card is, so I came here. Because she has my wallet, so I can't rent a hotel room."

Harvey sighed, taking the bottle away from Mike a pouring himself a glass, trying to bite back a smile. He failed miserably, grinning at Mike and groaning simultaneously. "You really suck with women, Mike. It started off as being funny to watch, but now it's just sad—sort of like if you watch someone repeatedly smash into a glass door."

"Gee, I'm sorry I can't be 'Harvey Specter, playboy extraordinaire', but no matter how many times I try to be perfect, I end up screwing up," Mike said, taking a sip from his glass and readjusting the icepack.

"Why are you trying to be perfect?" Harvey asked.

"So they'll like me," Mike replied.

"Like you where? In bed? On a date?"

"Everywhere?"

"Look, I'm not trying to tell you to be yourself, but women hate perfection. That's why nice guys don't get laid, and you can quote me on that," Harvey said.

Mike looked at him miserably.

"Fine," he began, "I'll help you out."

"What do you mean by that?" Mike asked, his face lighting up.

"I'll teach you how to seduce a woman—but I have one condition."

"What?"

"You can't tell anyone," Harvey said, taking a drink. "And by that I mean _no one._ Not your friends, not your grandmother—you can't even tell your plants, okay? I have a reputation to maintain, and if this gets out people will take it the wrong way."

"What's the right way?"

"I'm not doing this because I care about you—if you're a complete loser with women, and word of that starts to get around, I look bad. Understand?"

"Sure—but you can't call me grasshopper."

"Why not?"

"I put up with 'kid', 'puppy', even 'Mikey'—but considering you don't know any martial arts, 'grasshopper' is out."

"Would you prefer 'butterfly'?"

"Would you like a bruise just like mine so that we match?"

"I'd kick your ass if it came to that—"

"—I was on the wrestling team in high school—"

"—honestly, I really don't want to know that you liked to stick your head in other men's armpits—"

"—it's a sport!"

"It sounds more like an erotic pastime, kid."

"Start teaching or I'll start tackling."

"Oh, please Mike, don't stick your head in my armpit!" Harvey mocked.

Mike glared as a response, and Harvey rolled his eyes before holding up four fingers, looking Mike in the eyes. "Put down the drink—you'll need to remember this."

"Four?"

"That's right—four steps. And they must be done in order, every single time. You can't skip one, otherwise it doesn't work."

"Okay."

"Each lesson will be one step. Make time for them, or I won't bother."

Mike nodded.

"Okay, first things first—this will work on anybody. Sexuality is fluid at best."

"Bullshit. If I started hitting on you, right here and now—"

"—I'm not anybody, but the principles would be the same. Obviously you couldn't now, because I'm well aware of what you're doing, but if you pulled this on Louis, for example—"

"—stop, stop, stop! I get the picture. No need to bring Louis into this, okay?"

"Anyways, it's universal. I've never tried it with a man, but I've been told it works. You already have an edge—you're more or less attractive—"

"—and that confidence booth came to you live from Harvey Specter!" Mike announced.

"What, would you like me to hold your hand and tell you you're beautiful? Jesus, what do I look like, a British boy band?"

"I can't picture you in skinny jeans, if that's what you're asking. Okay, I get it—it's awesome, works on anyone, and I don't resemble Freddy Kruger. What's next?" Mike asked, watching Harvey raptly as he stood up, walked towards the window and looked out on the darkened city, cabs still dashing back forth and some lights in nearby skyscrapers on.

"Step one is to compliment them."

"Compliment them?"

"You heard me the first time."

Mike paused, frowning. "But I do that all the time. How come it doesn't work then?"

"Because it's only the first step, and it's only one compliment. It means nothing if done in excess, or even if it's blatant. Subtly works best—you don't need to do a full body scan or wolf whistle, you need to make them feel special."

"What makes them feel special?"

"You need to specify the compliment to whoever you are complimenting—here, try it on me."

"Wait, what? Try to…make you feel special?"

"Say your usual pick up line," Harvey said, turning to Mike and opening his arms slightly. "Don't worry, I promise I won't screw up the other side of your face."

Mike paused, coughing awkwardly, looking at his feet. "Uhm, wow, your eyes look really beautiful in this light," he muttered.

Harvey frowned. "What, are you hitting on me, or the floor? Although I'm pretty sure the floor can't hear you either."

Mike grudgingly lifted up his head, scowling at Harvey before setting his face back to neutral, then adopting a look of wonderment. "Your eyes look beautiful in this light."

Harvey paused, throwing in a pensive look before turning back to the window. He swallowed.

"I know, it's really corny, but—"

"—it wasn't completely awful, kid. Maybe if I read Harlequins, I'd give you my number, but no such luck. Also, a little too general."

"So, what's a better one?"

"Okay, pretend you've never met me before. Maybe I'm—or a pretty girl, or whoever you're trying to seduce—standing in front of you while you're in line. What do you do?"

"I'd bump into you and apologize."

"Good. Then?"

"Compliment you."

"Give it a second try, kid."

Mike looked down at Harvey's hands, faking an interest before asking, "Hey, do you play guitar?"

Harvey smiled. "Not bad, aside from the fact you stole it from a sitcom. Try again?"

"Do you dance?"

"Only drunk."

"Do you work out?"

"Way too blatant."

"Do you play the piano?"

"Only as a child, and drunk."

"I think you have a musical form of alcoholism, Harvey."

"Laugh all you like, you still haven't gotten my number yet."

Mike glanced at Harvey's shoulders, frowning slightly. "Hey, do you play baseball?"

Harvey grinned. "Bingo. Now, what would you say if I said 'no'?"

"Really? Sorry, you looked like the type."

"Perfect. Now I'm flattered, and I'll probably try to converse with you. What do you do then?"

"Give you my full attention."

"While…?"

"Making eye contact?"

"Yes."

"Do I have your number now?" Mike asked, his tone hopeful.

"Yes, but therein lies the key—you need to give them your number, too."

"Why?"

"So they can call or text you, not the other way around. But that's step two. We'll worry about that later."

"What are we worrying about now?" Mike questioned, his eyes fixed on Harvey's gaze, hanging off of every word.

"Your face," Harvey replied, crossing the room and gesturing for Mike to stand up. Mike stood, and Harvey pried the icepack from his hands, staring at the injury.

"Doesn't look so bad," he said, gingerly pressing against the pink flesh around Mike's eye, their bodies inches apart. Mike bit the inside of his lip to keep his face from lighting up like a Christmas tree, savouring the warmth of Harvey's skin against his and the feel of his breath running down Mike's cheek. Harvey's fingers shifted, trying to find a sore spot, and Mike let out a fake hiss when Harvey brushed his eyebrow.

"Is it purple?" Mike asked as Harvey withdrew his fingers, handing the icepack back to Mike.

"No, I think you iced it before it could bruise or swell," Harvey replied.

_Or, y'know, I just put an icepack over my eye until my skin went pink._

Harvey put the bottle of scotch and the glasses away, saying as he turned, "Not that I give a damn, but where did you plan to stay tonight?"

Mike scratched the back of his head, replying with, "Um, here?"

"On my couch?"

"Well—yes."

"What did you figure the janitor would say?"

"Nothing polite, I assume."

Harvey sighed, looking at Mike. "Ask."

"Ask what?"

"The question."

"Will you marry me?"

"Wrong question."

"What am I asking for?"

"To stay with me."

"Why would I ask that?"

"Because you need a place to stay."

"Why don't you just offer?"

"That would imply that I care."

"But you did offer—sort of."

"Just ask," Harvey replied shortly.

"Could I stay with you for one night, please?"

"Alright. As long as it's just one night."

"Harvey—"

"—you can stay in the guest room—"

"—no, seriously, what the—"

"—don't use my toothbrush. I have five new ones still in their packages for one-night stands."

Mike raised an eyebrow.

"I have a lot of one-night stands," Harvey said, tossing Mike his coat and flicking off the light.

Mike smiled softly in the darkness to himself before leaving the room, putting his coat back on. His plan was working out so far—Harvey was having a difficult time not admitting to himself that he cared about Mike.

And that was only step one, because Mike always got what he wanted.

OoOoO

**I'm baaaackk…**

**This entire story is dedicated to my friend Tina, who is on the very very short list of people I can't refuse. **

**Anyways, I've kinda added a layer to Mike here, but I needed that for my plot to work—also, I always found it odd how he never took advantage of people since he's so smart, and is probably great at mind games. What do you think? I honestly want to know. **

**Thanks! :]**

**LeahxLeah **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Mike had known since he was five years old that his brain and body needed sleep to function. He couldn't agree more—without it, he became a lifeless paper doll that performed only the most basic tasks. With it, he was a machine. He could calculate figures in his head faster than mathematicians, and recite law trivia quicker than Harvard alumni.

But sometimes sleep evaded him; he'd chase it down dark passageways and seek it in the bottom of bottles, but it still got away. Over time he taught his brain a relaxation technique that stopped the cogs from spinning—he would imagine his head was resting against someone's chest, and warm arms encircled him. Since he'd met Harvey, the 'someone' in Mike's fantasies had become him, muttering things softly in Mike's ear and chuckling when he sighed. At first he'd assumed it was nothing—his subconscious twisting the man who had changed his life into his knight in shining armour. It worked better than the faceless body that he had pictured before, and Mike discovered that since he had come to work at Pearson Hardman that he'd never slept better in his life. Until he saw that mirror image of himself in the alleyway, he hadn't known exactly what he wanted, but now he knew it was in the room next to his.

Lying on Harvey's guest bed was both better and worse for him—the sheets were laundered in the same detergent Harvey used, making Mike feel closer to him, but Harvey was sleeping in his own bed, and not with Mike. This thought chased him through his dreams, and when he woke up his chest felt hollow.

He couldn't give up now—he needed Harvey to actually be in bed alongside him, to make all of the pain in the world go away.

When Mike stumbled into the kitchen, he found Harvey already sitting on the expensive leather couch. Harvey had a cup of coffee in one hand and a manila folder on his lap. Mike grinned.

"You're wearing sweatpants," he said. Harvey frowned.

"I don't sleep in my suits, kid. Besides, it's Sunday morning."

"I just—I can't picture you in pyjamas, I guess," Mike stated, gesturing. "Or without hair gel, for that matter. Your hair is almost worse than mine."

Harvey looked up, taking a sip of his coffee and smirking at Mike. "Trust me—no, it isn't."

Mike glanced at his reflection in one of the glass windows. His hair stuck up irregularly from several different angles, and his tie had been knotted incorrectly. He grinned, his eyes shining brightly at the older man, who raised an eyebrow. The expression failed to mask the way his eyes softened when he looked at Mike, as though he was about to say something, but couldn't force it out. Mike felt his heart halt abruptly in his chest and his breath catch in his throat, but then those unspoken words slipped away and he knew couldn't chase them.

"What's in the folder?" he asked, curiosity painted on his features.

"A request from a client," Harvey replied, looking back down at the folder for a second before staring at Mike's tie.

"What kind of request?"

Harvey cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his white v-neck. "The history of his company—it's been the family business since before he can remember, but there are some questions as to its origin."

"Why does he care?"

"His family had mob ties a few generations back, and he wants to make sure they went through the correct channels to obtain it."

"How do we find out?"

"Public records—there should be a transaction somewhere. He isn't looking it up himself because he only has partial ownership, and his partner would be offended to know he was questioning his own company. We should be able to get it done in a few hours, maybe a day—can you fix your tie?"

"My—" Mike glanced down at his shirt, "—tie? What's wrong with my tie?"

"It's crooked," Harvey said.

"No it's not," Mike replied, frowning down at it. "You just have OCD."

Harvey ignored him. "It should take a day at most, so I'll leave it until Monday. As for Thompson's financials—damn it, Mike, can you fix it?"

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Mike exclaimed.

"It's wrong. Stand up and look in the mirror," Harvey commanded.

Mike stood up, walking to the mirror down the hall. He twisted it a little bit more and smirked, returning to the table. "There. Now what about Thompson?"

Harvey's eyebrow twitched slightly, scowling at Mike. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"I always figured that between the two of us, I'd probably develop that sort of 'A Beautiful Mind' schizophrenia, but I think you beat me to it."

"Tie it again," Harvey stated flatly.

"No."

"Tie it again, please?" Harvey tried.

"No, Harvey. It's fine."

"Fine," Harvey said, putting down his coffee and the file, crossing the room and grabbing Mike by his collar, swiftly unknotting the thin blue tie.

Mike swallowed as Harvey's fingers grazed his Adam's apple, inhaling whatever expensive cologne he had worn last night. Only a trace of it was left on Harvey's skin, but he couldn't help but want to chase it with his tongue.

Instead, he bowed his head slightly, letting Harvey's fingers graze the underside of his chin.

Harvey's eyelids lowered, and Mike could have sworn his voice dropped, but he was too intoxicated by the warm skin brushing his to think clearly.

"Watch, puppy. People will underestimate you if you don't take good care of your appearance—it's just human nature."

"Won't—won't that be a good thing?" Mike asked, his head dipping closer to Harvey's.

"Sometimes, but you wouldn't want anyone to undervalue you."

"You value me," Mike said.

"Yes," Harvey replied, his fingers slowing in their pace as his voice picked up an unsure tone.

"Well, if you value me, why do I care if anyone else does—"

"—look, it's finished, see?" Harvey said, cutting off Mike as he stepped back.

"Yeah." Mike replied flatly, hiding his disappointment.

"If you aren't going to wear it correctly, don't wear it at all."

"Oh, so I should be like you and wear a _v-neck?_"

"What's wrong with v-necks?" Harvey asked.

"Nothing, if you think you are Billy Idol."

"Add that to my list of mental illnesses if it means I get to keep wearing v-necks."

Mike shuddered. "You? As a rock star? I mean, I can picture it, but I don't know if the world could handle your incredibly inflated ego."

"I'd be awesome," Harvey stated. "You can be my drummer, if it would make you feel better."

"Louis could be your tour director."

Harvey made a face.

"Jessica could be your boss."

"No universe exists where she isn't, kid. I'm just glad I'm her favourite."

"Lesson two," Mike said.

"How the hell did you connect Jessica to the second lesson?" Harvey paused, frowning. "You know what? Never mind. I just decided I don't want to know."

"Call it a glitch in the matrix."

Harvey gave Mike a pitiful look. "I see your problem, now. Do you bring up sci-fi movies with every woman you talk to?"

"No, just you."

"I'm going to ignore that, because I am a man."

"Unless, of course, Jessica tells you that you aren't—"

Harvey silenced him with the wave of a hand. "Alright, so now you have her number, and she has yours. What do you do?"

"Call her," Mike stated.

"No," Harvey said, his voice flat, "you don't. Let her call you."

"Wait—why? What if she doesn't call? I mean, she's probably fairly attractive, and I'm not exactly Tom Cruise—"

"—no, your nose is significantly smaller—"

"Harvey," Mike tried again, "if I don't call her, she'll think I don't care."

"Exactly," Harvey said, smirking.

Mike frowned. "I'm really not following."

"Alright—the most attractive feature anyone can have is confidence. If you aren't looking for them to complete you, they'll want you more."

"But, isn't that—"

"You're complete on your own. If you look for somebody to fill in your wholes, you come off as needy. Even if you don't at first, they will end up resenting you for it in the long run." Harvey stated, taking a long sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving the cup.

_Speaking from experience?_ Mike silently asked him, but naturally, no answer came. Which was probably a good thing, as it would have freaked him out if one had.

"So I don't call?"

"No. You're confident. You want them, not need them. They're a guilty pleasure, not the love of your life. If they were, you wouldn't be seducing them."

"What do I do, then?"

"Maybe you text them once, maybe not."

"Are you allergic to straight answers?" Mike asked.

"Okay, we'll go back to using me as an example. Last night, you got my number, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"—now it's been twelve or so hours, and you haven't texted me. Why? You were hitting on me before, and now you aren't interested?" Harvey asked, upset. His brow was knit, and his tone shaken—Mike instantly caved, desperate to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking about you the whole time—"

"—stop, stop, stop," Harvey said, rolling his eyes. "You had me where you want me."

"Sad? Insecure?"

"Yes. And then, after twenty four hours, text me."

Mike pulled out his phone, sending Harvey a quick text, _Hey, sorry for the late reply._

Harvey scoffed once the text reached his phone. "Try again, and try to be more aloof."

_Hey._

Harvey rolled his eyes. "You're killing me here, Mike. I'm giving you all this fantastic advice—"

"—oh, because _clearly_ this advice worked for you," Mike said, gesturing around to the empty room. Harvey frowned, then picking up on the fact that he had no other company besides his associate.

"I can have any person I want in this whole city, kid," Harvey argued.

"Then why are you alone?"

"That's what I want. You can read my report card from kindergarten—I don't exactly play well with others."

Mike stared at him, desperately trying to understand the man in front of him. "So, let me get this straight—you could have anyone you want in this whole city."

"Are you trying to quote me a minute after I spoke? I mean, I know I'm a great philosopher, but still—"

"—and you're rich, and attractive, so pretty much everyone in the city wants you."

Harvey smirked. "I'd say that's about an accurate assessment, yes."

"But you're alone, so that means you don't want the whole city. Technically, that means you want someone specific."

Mike waited for Harvey's brown eyes to meet his, but Harvey's russet gaze remained fixed beyond the skyline. He couldn't help but hold his breath for a short second before remembering to function normally, and relaxing his posture. Mike held his arms down from moving, and forbid his face from making an expression, searching Harvey's face for a tell.

"Maybe," he said, finishing off his coffee with a satisfied smile, "Or maybe you're just trying to find something that isn't there."

Mike shrugged, smiling. "If you say so."

Harvey stopped, opening his mouth as though he was about to speak before sending Mike a quick text.

_Interested in drinks?_

"Gee, Harvey, I never knew you thought of me that way—"

"—if I roll my eyes anymore, they're going to fall out of my skull. Anyways, now you've got her hooked, assuming she hasn't contacted you first."

"What if she's a recovering alcoholic?"

"Then you probably shouldn't be flirting with her."

"I'm practising on you, aren't I?"

"I'm not an alcoholic—that champagne in the fridge is there for purely celebratory reasons."

"I knew there was a reason you hate to lose!"

"Naturally," Harvey replied, "the only reason I bother to have a successful legal career is to fuel my drinking habit."

"Congratulations—the first step is admitting it."

"Thank you, Mike. Do you happen to have any other, astounding, life-changing advice?"

Mike looked thoughtful for a minute, chewing the inside of his lip. "Never make eye contact while eating a banana."

"I'm going to ignore how you likely learned that and focus back on the lesson—now I'm going on a date with you."

"I hope you're the guy in the relationship, because there is no way I can pay for your ideal 'date'."

Harvey laughed. "Be realistic, puppy—if you were in a same-sex relationship, you'd always be on the bottom."

Mike jutted out his chin. "That's not true! If I was dating you, probably, but anyone else I would have a chance with, 'cause you're just a toppy bastard—"

"—if we were in a relationship you wouldn't care what position you were in, because sex with me is just that good."

"Hmm," Mike said. "I bet you do give pretty good blow jobs, though, because the only food I've ever seen you eat is hotdogs—"

"—I don't drip mayo down my chin, though, like _some_ people we know—"

"—that was one time, and that burger was poorly engineered."

Harvey held back a smile, stretching against the couch, the white cotton of his shirt sliding up slightly so that Mike could see a few inches of tanned abs. He hated to admit that Harvey was right, but he wouldn't complain about sex with Harvey in any way, shape or form, because it would be sex with Harvey. A thin strip of hair tracing down from Harvey's bellybutton to below his waistband caught Mike's eye, and he almost laughed at the concept of him being 'one hundred percent, completely heterosexual' three months ago—as all he could think of right now was Harvey stretching out in bed like he was doing at the moment, cat-like in post-coital bliss.

"Where do you take them for dinner, or drinks?" Harvey asked, running his tongue over his lips, and Mike got an idea.

"Somewhere…" He started, his voice dropping slightly and becoming coarser, "somewhere they have never been before."

"New York's a big city—chances are she won't have gone to the restaurant you have in mind," Harvey replied, his eyes darkening and focusing on Mike. Mike had to work hard to supress the grin that wanted to curl its way onto his lips; he had Harvey interested, a feat few managed to accomplish.

"Somewhere out of their comfort zone. Not by a lot, but enough to make them feel alive, to make it memorable," Mike replied, his voice edgier. Harvey was watching him raptly, trying to calculate what was running through Mike's mind.

"Such as?" Harvey asked.

"Depends on the person, I suppose," Mike said, leaning back against the leather.

Harvey rubbed his thumbnail over his mouth for a second before asking, "Where would you take Rachel?"

"Somewhere a little rough, with Cajun food that she wouldn't normally stop in."

"Jenny?"

Mike smiled. "If I hadn't already screwed that up, you mean? Probably a fancy place—somewhere no one had ever taken her before."

"Very romantic, rookie. Now, since I'm teaching you to seduce anyone, where would you take a man?" He questions, something not unlike a smile on his face, but a little too predatory to be interpreted as friendly. Harvey's eyes were dark and his pupils dilated, and Mike couldn't be sure whether or not Harvey had caught on to what he was playing at. His heart was beating too quickly in his chest. Had Harvey figured him out? He couldn't be sure, but he still felt like a trapped rabbit in the jaws of a monster—and the worst part was he couldn't exactly say he didn't like it.

It occurred to Mike now, in the heat of the moment, that maybe he should have reconsidered before playing mind games with a shark.

One way or another, it was too late now, and he took a thick lung-full of oxygen before continuing. "Depends on the man," he reasoned, meeting Harvey's eyes.

Harvey nodded. "Well, let's work with an exercise, then. Say I ask you to get information from someone, and you decide to seduce it out of them—a client, maybe."

"Central park."

Harvey looked taken aback. "Why?"

"The sheer amount of couples always makes me feel pressured to get into a relationship—also, the atmosphere is more laid-back than, let's say, an expensive bar."

"An associate, then."

"Your office, or Louis's—that's exactly where they all fantasize about sitting."

"What about…someone you know better?" He asked. Mike had him baited.

"Um…can you be a little bit more specific?" Mike tried.

"Fine. What if the person you were trying to seduce was a person you already have a casual relationship with? Like me—you see me regularly enough."

"Oh, you? You would be harder. Give me a sec," Mike said, pausing and chewing his lip. After a moment, he snapped his fingers. "A rooftop."

"Why there?"

"You're already at the top—no amount of fine dining or adventures would satisfy you. You wouldn't like going to a bar, because you pick up girls there all the time, and it would lose some of its appeal over time. Someone like me couldn't buy someone like you over, when you have everything."

"No one has everything."

"Pretty close, anyways. If I wanted to win you over, the only thing I could offer you would be a view and my company."

Harvey hummed slightly. "Don't worry. You'll never have to seduce someone like me, anyways. But that was good, though, I'll admit."

"Why wouldn't I have to seduce someone like you?" Mike asked, watching the fine lines around Harvey's eyes for any indication of anything he could be hiding. They crinkled as he smiled.

"You can't seduce the seducer, Mike. It just goes against…everything, I suppose."

Mike nodded, looking down at the carpet underneath his feet, curling his toes. He clasped his hands, trying to look as though he was processing the information Harvey was giving him, and tugged on his lip slightly with his teeth. He only had two more lessons until he lost his window of opportunity, and Harvey wasn't falling for him nearly as fast as Mike scheduled for. It was time for him to use one of his ultimate back up plan—initially he had thought it would be too hard for Harvey to process his feelings in time, but he had to have some faith in his boss.

He had to hold back the laugh and smile that Harvey's last phrase brought to mind, biting on the tip of his tongue. It didn't stop him from silently commenting, however.

_Just watch me. _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Mike had lived in New York for most of his life, and while he was happy to say that most of the time the weather was pleasant, compared to cities like Venice and London.

But from time to time, it would rain. And on the days it did, nothing would stay dry.

It felt like the sky was opening and every drop of water on the planet was pouring over him, and his cheap umbrellas couldn't handle the pressure. His shirts would be soaked through and his hair would be plastered to his face—his shoes would squish and his ears would fill with water until everything sounded softer. Cars would hit puddles and splash the darker water that hadn't drained yet onto pedestrians and cyclists, which the numbers of significantly decreased during these rains.

Mike, however, made a point not to call a cab when Harvey called him at nine o'clock on one of these rainy nights. Instead, he wrapped his water-proof jacket around the papers Harvey wanted and slid them into his leather bag, marching out into the apocalyptic weather with a grin on his face.

Oh, yes. Step three was in progress.

He looked adorable when he was drenched, and the fact that he would bring Harvey what he wanted more loyally than the mailman would undoubtedly win him some points too. He needed Harvey to see him as someone who would make Harvey happier than a one-night stand, someone who was steadfast to him—and Harvey didn't need to know, after all, that Mike was equally as cunning and calculating him.

He was worried, however, that he might ruin the briefs, so he called a cab and paid the driver three blocks before Pearson Hardman, walking the rest of the way there.

"What the hell happened to you?" Harvey asked, warily watching his associate drip on the floor.

"Water," Mike replied. "You're more or less made of it, so I figured you would have heard of it, but I guess not, huh?"

Harvey frowned. "Why didn't you take a taxi?"

"None were available—but don't worry!" Mike continued, a grin covering his face as he reached into his bag, "I kept the briefs dry."

Harvey raised an eyebrow at the dry briefs, smiling slightly at the folder Mike handed him and shaking his head. "You really are hopeless, you know that?"

"You're welcome," Mike replied, heading towards the couch and preparing to flop down on it. Harvey looked up from the file just in time to grab Mike by the wrist and haul him up. "Jesus, kid, don't sit down, you'll soak it."

"Can I sit somewhere?" He asked, his tired blue eyes looking directly into Harvey's and pleading. The brown eyes that gazed back at him looked unusually saccharine, as though Mike had just told Harvey he was his hero, and Mike couldn't help but think, _I've got you now._

Harvey released his wrist, and Mike's heart instantly ached in his chest at the loss of contact.

A towel hit Mike in the face, and he caught it before it dropped, rubbing his hair with it. "Thanks," he said, smiling weakly at his boss.

"Don't sit down, kid," Harvey replied, frowning and turning his laptop on. His jaw twitched and his brow lowered, and he looked up at Mike expectantly. Mike tried to decode his facial expression, and then grinned when he figured it out.

"Do you want me to ask?"

"Yes," Harvey said, some of the tension draining from his face.

"Seriously? You can't just…offer? You don't even have to ask me directly—you can look at the window, if you want," Mike tried. Harvey shook his head stubbornly.

"Just ask."

"Harvey, can I please borrow your spare suit?" Mike asked, exasperated.

"Sure," Harvey said, gesturing at the closet behind him, "help yourself."

"Thanks." Mike crossed the room, peeling his jacket from his torso and arms. He licked his lip slightly and watched Harvey swallow at the white shirt underneath that had suddenly become transparent—which left a whole lot of Mike that was now of for show.

He undid each button slowly, making sure not to look at Harvey and to seem completely focused. It had to seem natural, of course—the more blatant it was the less attractive it became, and he had to make Harvey think it was by accident.

Inch after inch of skin became visible, until his abs were clearly on display, and catching Harvey's rapt eyes focusing there made him glad he'd been going to the gym more often. He got the impression if he was ridiculously skinny or fat that this technique wouldn't have the same effect, and he would more likely be invoking a shudder from his boss. But Harvey's pupils were dilated until his eyes seemed darker than usually, and Mike felt powerful.

His body wasn't exactly in the 'I used to model for Abercrombie' category, but was more lean from all the cycling he did. He had to admit, not being able to afford a car had its benefits.

When he got to the last button, Mike glanced up at Harvey and turned before separating the wet fabric from his back, his muscles working and shoulder blades shifting. The shirt clung in places, and he had to get his other hand involved slightly when it came to his biceps.

He reached for his belt buckle, then looked at Harvey in surprise, as if suddenly realising he was there. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry—I'll go use the men's room," he said, grabbing his wet shirt and Harvey's dry suit. It was hard for him to hear exactly, but his cheeks heated up when he heard Harvey muttered something along the lines of, "Tease," when he thought Mike was out of earshot.

As soon as he was around the corner, Mike bowed to the imaginary crowd that was cheering inside his head, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all week."

Harvey's suits may have been sewn together by slaves and cried on by orphans, but they were considerably softer than Mike's, and had the added benefit of Harvey's scent. It felt fantastic to complete encase himself in something that belonged to Harvey, and he knew as soon as he got home he'd spend hours grinning like a maniac. He and Harvey were close to being the same size—the only difference was Mike was more lithe than he, so the jacket and shirt hung off of Mike slightly.

_Focus,_ his brain reminded him, and he splashed some water from the sink on his face a few times to get himself to concentrate.

He wasn't a big fan of this tactic—partially because it didn't make Harvey fall in love with him, but made him fall in lust. The two could exist together, but Harvey lusted after most pretty women he met, and maybe even a few of the men. Sex wasn't anything special to him; it was something he got regularly from anyone he wanted.

Mike didn't want to be _anyone—_he wanted to be the only one. So this tactic wouldn't be the best in terms of making Harvey see him romantically…unless he improvised.

OoOoO

Harvey frowned slightly when Mike re-entered his office, looking a shade paler than he had when he left. And fully clothed, which was also discouraging. Mike sat down wordlessly on his couch, stretching out and placing his hands behind his head, and it occurred to Harvey how at home Mike was right there. He fit on all of Harvey's things, as though someone in advertising had handpicked him as a model to pose on that couch. Or on the one he had at home. Or in his guest bedroom. Or, sitting at his breakfast table in the morning and laughing at his God-awful Top Gun references over a bowl of cereal.

"Will the loophole work?" Mike asked, startling Harvey out of his trance.

"Yes, and I appreciate your urgency in bringing me the briefs," He replied. _But frankly, the strip show was the best part. _

"No problem," Mike replied. "Do you know when the weather is supposed to let up?"

"In an hour or so," Harvey said, assessing the still-damp Mike. "Do you want to learn step number three while you wait?"

"Yeah," Mike said, sitting up suddenly.

"Okay," Harvey responded, "recap what I've taught you so far."

"I picked out him or her in a public place—like a bar, or standing in line, and I complimented them in a subtle way, making them feel unique. We exchange numbers, and then I don't call for a little over twenty for hours. When I do call, I keep it brief, and then take them somewhere memorable that makes them leave their comfort zone."

"Good boy. Now," he said, a smirk creeping onto his face, "what do you _wear?_"

"Wear?" Mike responded. "I mean, uhm, jeans and a t-shirt?"

"Are you taking them to a baseball game?"

"If I was seducing you, yeah—"

"—and that would probably get you in my pants," Harvey remarked. Mike made a mental note. "However, what if you're going to a restaurant? Do you know any of the first date clothing rules?"

"Hm…" Mike replied, deep in thought, "no leather pants?"

"That is an important one, since ninety-nine percent of women don't like men in leather pants."

"One hundred percent of guys in leather pants don't like women."

"Any other rules?" Harvey asked, reading the blank look on Mike's face as a blatant 'no.' "Fine—we'll use me as an example again. You're taking me on that rooftop date you were talking about. What would you wear, knowing I care about how you dress?"

_Nothing._ "Oh, ah…not a skinny tie?"

"That would be a start, I suppose. Just determine the type of person you're taking on a date before anything—maybe they dress casually but long to be formal, or vice-versa."

"Don't most people dress how they want to dress? I mean, Jessica could make Friday's casual but I still don't think you would come to work wearing jeans."

"Doesn't mean I'm not attracted to people who wear jeans."

"What, opposites attract?" Mike asked, smiling at his boss. "We're humans, not magnets, Harvey."

"You're losing the point here, pup—_there's more to people than what they show_. Remember that."

Harvey's eyes met Mike's, and for a second Mike was lost in the absolute truth of that statement. After all, Harvey was a cold-hearted bastard that would never hire a drug dealer to give him a second chance. And Mike was a sweet, innocent kid that would never try to seduce his boss.

"I'll remember."

"Care to guess what step three is?"

"Act like a douche-bag throughout the whole date?" Mike tried. "Be so relaxed it will look like you took one too many Valium?"

"Neither. Step number three is chivalry."

"Chivalry?"

"Chivalry."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you hold open doors for her. You pull out her seat for her. You pay the bill. Now, if she was a he, you obviously wouldn't do this—you want to make him feel capable, and in control. Instead, you would make a lot of eye contact and listen raptly to every word he says."

"Why?" Mike asked.

"She wants to feel like a lady. He wants to feel like your hero. It will give him the biggest ego trip for the length of the date, and then when you're gone all he'll think about will be the way you looked at him. He won't be able to resist calling you."

Mike nodded, trying not to look up at Harvey. "Okay, but you open doors for people all the time, and I don't see people ripping their clothes off for you."

"Aside from you, of course," Harvey said, grinning slyly. Mike opened his mouth as though to respond with a witty comeback, and then closed it again, coming up with nothing. He blushed.

"Well…you shouldn't have been looking!" _Except you did, and now you're thinking about screwing me in the office. I've got to say, I deserve a ton of points for originality on that one, Harvey._

"It's my office, so forgive me if I wasn't aware there was a certain area I was forbidden to look at." Harvey replies, the smile still in place.

"That view is reserved for significant others," he said, and something flashed behind Harvey's eyes. He continued to smile, however, so Mike could've sworn he imagined it, but not unlike his boss swallowing nervously and biting back his words, it was there.

"Well, excuse me, Magic Mike, I'll make sure to tip you next time."

"Or date me," Mike replied.

A pause filled the room.

"Or date you," he echoed. The smirk returned, but this time it held a sad tinge, and he looked down at his hand for a second before turning to Mike again. "Your lips are blue."

Mike raised a few fingers to his mouth, gingerly running his fingers over his lips, his thumb tugging his lower one down. "Yeah," he said, surprised.

Harvey sighed. "Well, shit." He stood up suddenly, walking to the closet that he had tucked into his office, and opened the door, rifling through its contents.

"What are you looking for?" Mike asked.

"Another dry towel," Harvey replied. "You, in your infinite wisdom, can't manage to dry yourself off properly, and now you're freezing."

"I am pretty cold," Mike admitted.

"Mm," Harvey said, scowling. "Which means you'll get sick, and won't come into work Monday. Donna will give me shit, I'll have to get another associate to do my work who won't bring me coffee like you do—"

"—other associates bring you coffee all the time!"

"Yes, but I usually have Donna dump it out," he responded offhandedly.

"Wait, why?" Mike questioned. "They go to the same stand I do."

"You get the order right."

"Milk, no sugar isn't exactly rocket science."

"They get it wrong."

"How?"

"I don't know," Harvey said, his tone reminding Mike of a twelve-year-old, "they just _do. _Wrong type of milk."

Mike raised an eyebrow, and Harvey was hit by the strange sensation of looking into a blonde, blue-eyed mirror. "You didn't actually try their coffee, did you?"

"I plead the fifth."

"This isn't a criminal case, you can't pull that. Just admit it—you like me more, therefore you'll only drink my coffee," Mike stated, shocked.

"No," Harvey said. "And I can't find a towel."

"What are you going to do?" Mike teased. "If I get sick, you can't trust anyone else to not put cyanide in your coffee, so you'll go a whole day without it. Or, you could ask Donna, but she'll be mad at you for getting me sick, so something worse than poison could end up in there. I'm thinking tails. Of what creature? I'll leave that up to your imagination."

Harvey scowled, glancing around the hallway. "No one's here, right?" He asked.

"Not besides us—"

"—okay. What I'm about to do, you can't tell anyone about. Ever. In fact, after this point, we won't even discuss it. It stays here."

"Like…Vegas rule?"

"Stronger. Should you choose to vocalise it, I will deny it and claim you're sleeping with Keanu."

"I think you mean Kyle—"

"—he's dark haired and his name starts with a 'k'. As far as I'm concerned, he's Keanu," Harvey snapped.

"Okay, deal—especially if you call Kyle Keanu to his face."

Harvey extended his hand, and Mike shook it. Before he could ask exactly what Harvey intended to do, his arms were wrapped around Mike.

"I—is this—is this a _hug?_" Mike asked.

"Yes," Harvey said, his tone implying Mike's idiocy.

"Not to sound ungrateful, or anything, but you're about a foot away from me, Harvey."

Harvey frowned. "Isn't that how hugs work?"

"No," Mike said, chuckling. "Do you want me to show you?"

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Please, Mike, enlighten me on how you like to be embraced."

Mike continued to laugh, pulling back from the thick cords of muscles in Harvey's arms to assess his torso, then slipping his hands under Harvey's suit jacket. Harvey swallowed quietly, but Mike caught the gesture and grinned. He continued to trace his fingers over the smooth fabric of Harvey's shirt, sliding his hand up over the shifting muscles of his back; it occurred to him post strip-tease that his body had nothing on Harvey's, and he almost felt self-conscious.

Except he could feel Harvey's heart hammering against his ribcage, his body warming under Mike's fingers and his breathing deepening. Mike finally wrapped his arms fully around Harvey, and Harvey instantly stepped closer to Mike. Their chests brushed and Mike rested his chin on Harvey's shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his knees go a little weak when his boss hugged him back. Harvey's hands encircled his lower back first, not unlike Mike had done, but slower—Mike felt as though Harvey was mapping out Mike's nuances with his slightly calloused palm, remembering what lay where.

As far as Harvey knew, this could easily be his last excuse to touch Mike like this.

Mike knew that this was only a preview of coming attractions.

Nonetheless, he felt his heartbeat synchronise with Harvey's after a short moment, and inhaling a trace of cologne and Harvey's skin made adrenaline pump through his veins. He felt as though he was at the top of the world and in the safest place he could be simultaneously, and he wasn't sure what his emotions were doing.

It confused Mike, suddenly, whether he had captured Harvey's heart or if Harvey had captured his.

"Isn't this better?" Mike murmured, his lips inches away from Harvey's skin.

"Yeah," Harvey responded, a sigh embedded in his words that made his hot breath drift over Mike's ear. Mike shivered.

"Still cold?" Harvey asked. "You feel like a heater to me."

"That's supposed to be your job," Mike said. He realised that the ice cube he had under his tongue was melting and that it would soon be liquid, making his lips red again—he slid it out and pressed it against his lips for good measure, and gave another shiver.

Mike pressed his cheek to his boss's shoulder, feeling the shoulder bones underneath the fabric and skin tense and then relaxed, unsure as to whether he was being affectionate or attacking. Or attacking affectionately. He completely understood why Harvey's body was so confused.

Harvey's jaw clenched and unclenched, his brain desperately trying to restrain himself from leaning to the side and pressing his cheek on Mike's head—that's what this position was for, right? But that would be inappropriate. Completely. So he decided to watch Mike's hair instead, analysing every strand to keep himself from leaning into Mike more.

Mike fought back the urge to growl at Harvey's unresponsiveness. Damn it, the man was good! Anyone else would have been lying next to him in bed by now, curling up and sleeping after fantastic sex, but _no, not Harvey_. Harvey just had to fight him, didn't he?

Maybe that was the whole reason Mike liked him so much. Either way, he had to step up his game.

He nuzzled the top of his head against the sensitive skin by Harvey's ear, and he felt the low, "Mm," that resounded through Harvey's chest. Harvey's hands ran up Mike's back once and Mike found himself incredibly willing to do this for the whole night—and then the next morning, and the day after that, and…

"You're quiet," Harvey said.

"I'm thinking," Mike replied.

"You're always thinking. You just usually do it out loud."

Mike pulled back from Harvey; his arms still wrapped around him and their chests close, but now Mike was staring him in the eyes, their faces inches away. Harvey was met by a sea of blue and dark pupils, a dark ring around Mike's iris that he'd never noticed from their usual distance. Their faces were inches away, and he felt his heart start to beat faster.

Mike smiled. "Are you actually asking me to talk for once?"

"Consider it your lucky day," Harvey replied. _You have no idea_, Mike thought, staring into dark brown orbs that seemed to instantly make his stomach drop and listening to Harvey's rich voice drop an octave.

He was so screwed.

"You," Mike said. "I was thinking about you. I was…trying to figure out why you would be single, and honestly, despite everything, I can't come up with one good answer."

"I'm not exactly the most compassionate guy on the planet, kid. You've said it yourself."

"You hired me," he argued.

Harvey paused. "That I did."

"Women love you. Men love you. You can seduce anyone—"

"—seduce. Not make them stay. There's a big difference."

"What?" Mike asked, his eyes widening.

"Oh, you can charm someone into bed, no problem. But anything more than that? That's out of your control. That's…no one's control. You can't manipulate them forever."

"Why not?" Panic filled Mike, although he tried his hardest to keep it out of his voice.

"Well, you get married, then you get divorced, then you end up losing half your money, then you end up begging me for money, then I say no and you move in because I'm a pushover, then I'm living with you and people start to assume we're a couple, so no girls will sleep with us. Then we die alone. See what I mean? It's bad."

"Oh, we die alone. You know, with each other, but alone." Mike says.

"Yeah," Harvey said, smiling. He turned his head to the window then, and Mike followed suit—droplets still clung to the glass pane, but outside no more fell. Traffic noise was more audible now that the pouring water had stopped and the smell of wet pavement wafted in through the window.

"The rain stopped," Harvey said, not looking at Mike.

"It did," Mike replied.

"I suppose you want to go home."

"It's what, midnight?" Mike asked.

"Eleven thirty, actually," Harvey said.

"Wanna grab some pizza?" Mike asked. "Or, you know, whatever the expensive lawyer equivalent of pizza is?"

Harvey pulled back from Mike, reaching for his coat, a small smile on his face. "Better be good pizza."

Mike grinned at his boss, his blue eyes shining in the semi-darkness. "The best you've ever had."

OoOoO

**I'm enjoying writing this. A lot. Hopefully I'm not making Harvey too OOC but the season two premier tilted my world off axis in the best way possible **

**I love your reviews. You are awesome. Yes, you. **

**A few people in particular are getting a shout out, though: **

**sHIKIGAMInOkANASH and LoveMarines, who's PM's I came home to and boosted my ego to Harvey levels. Just thank your lucky stars it isn't Louis levels, readers :D**

**My Shy Anon reader, who has left me reviews for both chapters **

**You're all getting skinny ties for Christmas. **

**LeahxLeah **


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